What the Cullens Didn't Know
by tsuenami
Summary: The Cullens are tied together by a bond stronger than love. Carlisle has a secret and Alice's visions of the Volturi will still occur unless they put their faith in a human who knows their true history.Ernst holds the key to their salvation and what the Cullens' desire above all. Eventual EXB. Pre Twilight thru Post Breaking Dawn Canon
1. Prologue

**What the Cullens Didn't Know**

**Authors note.** New to posting so please bear with me as I learn the finer nuances of posting. I wrote Devour as a stand alone story, unrelated to the Saga and somehow one day it decided with some changes it could be a cool story about the Cullens.

**Summary: **The Cullens are a gifted vegetarian family of vampires. Ernst is a human who shares a history with them. Carlisle is keeping a secret, and Aro wants to destroy them all. The Cullens share more than a last name, and Ernst knows the real history of the enigmatic Cullens, and the future of what they desire the most. Takes place pre Twilight through post Breaking Dawn, this story weaves within cannon history and timelines, establishing a different history unknown to the Cullens and kept hidden from the Volturi. Eventual Bella and Edward along with the rest of the Cullen Clan and Wolves.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns twilight

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Remote village Austrian-Hungarian Empire , 1890's.

POV Ernst

She touched herself. I ached to hold her hand. Instead, I clutched my sucker. The frantic movement of her hand, the sharp staccato of her voice as she shouted the words in a whisper and sucked her breath in sharply. The buttons of her mud stained boots undone, peeking beneath her legs splayed wide over the wooden steps of the bakery. Uninhibited, as Mother said, unaware of the world passing before her. Her pale grey eyes were sightless, her fingers frantic, in time with her panting. Mother forbade meto speak with her. Her family, mother whispered were _Michlinge_ or part Gypsy. She was, to me, a frail misunderstood child, two years younger than me at most.

Her fingers and thumb moving in time. Touching her was not forbidden, I reasoned. I stepped toward her, my heart beat pounding as I willingly disobeyed. It excited me.

Her panting increasing as she sensed my closeness through her closed eyes but, the fluttering could not be denied behind her lids. They tracked in time to her sharp hoarse words.

"Café."

"Tea."

"Rum."

"Blitz."

"Dum."

Repeat.

Fingers frantic, splotches of red staining her cheeks. Soon, too soon and she would harm herself, I was sure. The fingers of her hand, tiny yet strong, from playing the notes only she could hear. I stepped closer, and faster they went, her voice a mantra calling me. I did not think that possible; I hung back, gripping my sucker, the last vestige of my reality and innocence, the lifeline slipping. My palms sweaty soon I would lose it.  
Her right ring finger tapped her left cheek.

"Café!" Her thumb tapped her right cheek.

"Tea!" Her middle finger touched her plush lips. My hand reached for her.

"Rum!" The pointy finger tapped the upturned tip of her nose.

"Blitz!" And stopped.

Her grey eyes opened. My greens inches from hers. Her lips spread in a wide smile.

"You Came. Ernst come, no longer you will be Dumm." She giggled and grabbed my hand.

"Do not speak, yet, Ernst. I have paper and a pencil. Just come, I will not let you break her rules. Oh can I have some of your sucker, I haven't had some in a while."  
I nodded, speechless at the coherent sentences. She grabbed my hand and we ran through the manure-filled street to the small pond behind the apothecary, her books swinging from the leather strings binding them.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I originally posted under a different title. I made a few errors while posting and needed to downgrade the rating from M to T after reviewing the guidelines and my story over the weekend. I hope to update twice a week. All mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns it.

**Chapter 1:**

Northern California 1978

The world crackled in my ears. The static I recognized as the slumbering voice of the narrator of a documentary. The TV positioned at the proper angle for heads tilted backward, in drowsy sleep against the vinyl covered chiropractic pillows, recommended for those who needed the extra support we've lost along the way. Allowing gravity to pull my head forward, the crackling intensified before a resounding pop echoed through my skull and I cursed again the morning sun, for granting me another day.

I cast my eyes away from the flickering screen out the window. The brick wall outside the caulked window was dark in shadow. Rolling my head again, it rested my eyes on a girl with brown hair sitting on the lap of one of the residents. Her eyes met mine as I avoided the vacant gazes of my fellow captives. My internal cursing at loosing another day to my decrepit body, still bound to the laws of gravity, gave way to the delicious absence of the fuzzy metallic taste in my mouth. My medication for whatever reason was late. Rolling my head, my eyes absorbed the flurry of activity down the hall, the nurses dressed to the best, scurried to accommodate a new addition to the ward, I mean wing. Lolling my head back, the little girls eyes held me captive. I struggled to place their importance in my memories.

Dribbles and drabs, the day's events came through the curtain of haze of the lifting drugs. A wealthy octogenarian desired to live his last days in this facility. If my legs had been able, I would have run to him and grabbed him by the lapels, shaking him. Letting him know that this was a nightmare, trapped in your body, waiting impatiently for death only to have it snatched back by the incredible technology we had to prolong our misery in this existence. Jump, I would tell him. Jump for your life and be free. I smiled. I was a crazy old loon but I could still amuse myself. I laughed.

My body gave me away again, and the joy bubbling from my chest somehow became a stream of saliva trickling in to my lungs via my trachea. Sigh. Heavens forbid I should choke to death, at least it was the young woman who came to my aid this time.

My blue-veined hand came up trembling. I lay it in thanks against her chocolate skin. It was so beautiful and vibrant compared to my parchment dry coating. She paused, stooping down. I tried closing my mouth but the dentures clacked and clattered. How embarrassing. I tried again, too late, her face blurred into focus. I gasped. The memories filling my sight. I rolled my head away from the nurse, the little girl skipped down the hall backwards with her mother and the wheelchair bound resident. The eyes. Her eyes!

"Mr. Ernest, no need to thank me. That's what I'm here for." The kind nurse stood to leave.

I clutched at air and my gnarled hands found purchase and I pulled with all my strength. Once again, the feeling I have not felt in years overcame me. Time slowed. The voice, the slumbering voice of the documentary came clear through my senses. I tried to shake it, chasing the memory, clutching the nurses hand, as if it would help.

_"…It is a myth found throughout ancient indigenous people's that has eluded the interpretation of scholars for thousands of years. What were these ancients attempting to depict with their crudely drawn pictographs. Perhaps we will never know…."_

A little girls' voice screeched shrilly from the depths of my brain, a searing bolt ignited a passion long buried. It echoed with the whiteness. Oh my was I dying? Oh, please let it be. But no. The words haunting, piercing with each word flicking a light switch, as I would when returning to my home, devoid of any lovers, pets or children, after a midnight run along the river.

_"Café!"_  
_"Tea"_  
_"Rum!"_  
_"Blitz!"_  
_"Dum!"_

"Mr. Ernest!" The voice of the kind nurse broke through my awareness.

I tried to focus. I needed to focus. The boy inside of me, holding the memories safe emerged from his dormant lair. I felt alive. I felt like me.  
I really hated the Americanized version of my name and for the first time in years I corrected her in my voice that was stolen from me a while ago by the stroke that left me paralyzed, mute, trapped and …waiting.

"Ernst." I croaked, adjusting my dentures and licking my lips again. Her hand fluttered to her cheat, tears broke her eyelids.

"Ernst, My name is Ernst." I felt the muscle in my face again and positioned my lips just so, my tongue rummaging around my unfamiliar mouth.

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A/N Would love to hear your thoughts and reviews.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for reading. All errors are my own. Cannon characters and time lines are as true as possible to the Cannon timelines (did i say that right?), Since this is a back story of the Cullen's history it is told in Ernst's POV for the most part. If you have any questions feel free to ask along with any suggestions.

Disclaimer: SM owns all characters.

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**Chapter 2**

Northern California 1978

Ernst POV

I used the muscles in my eyes instead of rolling my head, the in protest but move they did and I focused on her blurry name tag. She made to pull away and I gripped her tighter hoping I was not hurting her.

"Amanda," I wanted to sound like the man I used to be, but that would take time I did not have, "Thank you for you kindness."  
Speechless behind her hand, her eyes brimmed with tears, reminding me of another with haunting eyes.

"Shhh," I patted her hand. My tongue rolled. My voice not as elegant or deep as I remembered, reminding me of my voice when I was a child weak, lacking the substance of puberty. My not quite white and rounded teeth clicked into place, clicking and shifting without any adhesive. A Natural, unthinking movement of my tongue startled me as it wet first the top row then the bottom, flicking out to my lips again.

"Please, would you bring me to my room?" i croaked, my voice stronger.

Eyes blinking furiously, she pushed me to my room setting the brake and busied herself with fixing my bed. My eyelids opening and closing lubricating my dry eyes. I opened and closed my mouth, the jaw cracking and my neck wobbling as it supported the weight of my head in a youthful fashion. The vinyl pillow fell to the floor with a plop.

I turned my usual lolling head, well normal for at least since the stroke, toward the sound. The sensations coursing through my awakened mind stimulating my body in ways it had forgotten. My lip twitched and a stifled giggle rose from my nurse.

Ah the twitch, I thought. It was the beginning of a smirk, the one my wife used to say made me look rakish and dashing when it appeared. I let it grow into a smile.

"I should get the Doctor, Mr. Ernest, I mean Mr. Ernst." Amanda rushed as she patted the ugly tan cloth that served as my blanket, quilt and bed covering.

I lifted my hand again to stop her, pushing against the bones of my elbows to get some advantage. I gasped in a large breath of air into my lungs far too quickly. The spasms rolling my shoulders as I refused to let the cough shake the dentures loose. I clamped my mouth shut. My elbows slid off the worn smooth arms of the wheelchair. My eyes closed as the sharpness of the coughs brought the stinging light into my eyes. The air barreled through my nostrils; still I kept my mouth closed. Pain radiated from my lungs to my ribs and down into my legs, such was the violence emanating from my betraying lungs. My legs?  
Grey eyes met mine. I held Amanda's gaze, only to glance down and up again. My legs trembled. My knees separated, instead of locked together in the fetal position of useless limbs.

"Sweet Jesus!" I thought. The eyes. Amanda's grey eyes triggered the dormant memory buried so long ago. I remembered in a flash every instant of my long, long life. I remembered, in a moment of perfect clarity, when I lost_ her_, of the promise I made. I remembered the smell, the taste and her touch. I did not understand when as a child she demanded _THE_ promise. Looking into Amanda's eyes, I understood, and with that understanding came a peace in me, as I understood what the final answers were.

"No! Please Amanda, no doctor." I reached out my hand to her, no longer mortified or disgusted by the appearance of my 98-year-old skin and body. Confidence blasted through my withered limbs. The same confidence I had when I signed my life over to the corrupt Military. The same confidence I had when we launched the rocket. The same confidence I had when I made love to my wife for the first time.

My hand waved her to come closer."Please, sit with me awhile. For the shock to go away of course."

Her black manicured eyebrows arched, puckering the satin-smooth skin of her high forehead. My lips twitched, the burning light demanded my attention and quirked my lips into that damning smirk."Only for a little while, to calm my nerves and yours. Perhaps you may close the door and I can share the story of my life."

Her expression darted from disbelief and uncertainty to fear and a twinge of horror. Her mouth opened and closed as mine did moments ago.

I smiled."Please, indulge an old, old man who has awakened from a slumber of entrapment in my body. I once was a great scientist, and know that the mind and body sometimes do miraculous things that last only a moment. Please don't leave me alone, Amanda."

I gazed into her eyes and turned my rheumy eyes on her with a look of longing and pleading I'd give my wife when I wanted her bake her grandmothers apple strudel… a recipe that demanded a day and a half of constant vigilance and devoured in an instant. She always sighed with a smile and a kiss, unable to deny my requests when accompanied by 'the look'.

Her eyes narrowed and her voice, soft as a lovers caress said "Yes." I did the proverbial happy dance in my head. "Very well."

Her tight smile relaxed as she patted my hand. Sitting in the wing-back chair next to me, we gazed out of the darkening window, reflecting the sympathetic young black woman holding the hand of a dilapidated veteran and traveler. I snorted.

"May I get you anything Mr. Ernst? Are you comfortable?" she asked.

Breaking my gaze from the disturbing reflection I lost myself instead in her impossible grey eyes. "I am fine. thank you Amanda for your kindness."

"Your welcome, What is this about Mr. Ernst? Have they changed your medications?" she asked concern lacing her eyes.

I patted her hand. "No my dear." I chuckled, "Would you indulge an old man and hear a story?"

"I would be delighted if you shared your story with me.

I smiled, clasped her warm hand in mine and dove into my past to retrieve the future.

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A/N Please review! Update tommorrow


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

"The things we remember as a child are easily forgotten when we have grown into adults, or remembered differently. Our brain forgets more than it remembers, the details blur into fantasy carving alternate reality into a reliable building enabling you to live within it and not just admire the facade. It is a wondrous place to roam and redecorate.

The basement of the medieval church was converted into a school room. I learned my letters here and felt the sting of the wooden ruler across my knuckles more times than I can remember, or perhaps less. One of the hardest lessons I learned was kindness.

I learned that kindness was a difficult lesson to learn and remember in the hearts of children. And children grow into adults. Cruelty breeds in the hearts of men, and is washed away by the blood of Christ. Patience is not for the child who shows kindness to others. It is a weakness. It is punished by classmates and then by the ruler. Being six and scrawny bodes for painful punishments as I lacked the layers of muscles of the farmers boys and made a sissy out of me when tears sprung from said scrawniness.

Sulking I glared at Velda, rocking in the dark corner of the damp basement. She was oblivious to my predicament on her behalf. I thought of all the vile and painful pranks the other boys pulled that I would do to her, relishing the thoughts of showing her how it felt. The school master droned onward and tiny paper ball filled with spit flew through air, aimed for a direct hit on Velda. She pulled herself tighter into a rocking knot, clutching in her hand, tightly to her chest the chipped green shard of sea glass. The ball missed, landing near her legs. The boys snickered and I joined in. The headmaster called order. Why not laugh. She was the crazy girl who I wasted my care on and now I sat here nursing my stinging hands and sporting a black eye. I was certain my behind would be sore for days when Father learned of this. I would be like the other boys form now on. I ducked my face under my arm, peeking at her, mirth bubbling in my belly. I choked on my laughter.

Partially hidden in the corner the rocking form increased its pace. My stomach churned. The headmaster, slamming his ruler upon the desks, made his way to the back of the classroom, calling order in his terrifying voice. I witnessed the puddle forming beneath the crazy girl, freezing her motions for a second her eyes meeting mine. The sounds of her rocking began again, the wrong sounds, painfully out of pace. The headmaster, in his ignorance poked the girl once, did not notice the change. I released the breath I was holding, for the first time thankful for his cow-like stupidity. He returned to the lesson at hand, and I mulled over the lesson driven home.

I whispered my apologies to her, running past the bakery on the way to the Apothecary where my father worked. He was a scientist and pharmacist; he dabbled in the affairs of politics and kept men healthy. For the most part he was respected and liked, and most importantly he was very lucky. As such, my black eye was forgotten in my hope she had heard my hurried apologies. Alas, my father and mother were desperate to climb the social ladder, perfect children were a requirement they did not take lightly. My brothers and I received many a beating to correct our posture and thoughts. I fear it was a waste, my posture as my current slouch attest to was atrocious and my thoughts well, are uncontrollable. The others, the war took care of them, leaving me an orphan but that was much later.  
So began my dance with Velda."

"Velda, did she become your wife Ernst?" Amanda asked, pulling me from my thoughts.  
"No. She was more."  
"Would you like some water Ernst?" Amanda asked.  
Nodding, I sipped the water. I wanted to tell it all. To share and feel the relief of this burden. I had a promise to keep and I needed Amanda to believe the plausible parts of my life. I needed her help in this final chapter of my life.

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**A/N **Good...Bad? What are you thoughts. Slow start but stay with me. Again all errors are my own, and in my haste to post i may miss somethings, and for that i apologize in advance. Another update tomorrow. till then.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N SM owns Twilight.

Sorry not a new chapter, i corrected some errors that slipped by my editing. Will update with new chapter tomorrow.

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**Chapter 4**

****Ernst POV, Northern California 1978

"Living in the mountains carved by forefathers into a small town was blissful. The peasant farmers tilled the land. In ages past they were serfs and now, in my time, called tenants. They provided us with the produce, meat and cheeses we relied upon in our daily lives. It is irrelevant that without them, we would not live in the comfort we enjoyed, we still considered them peasants. They did as well. Sweat filled tears in their clothing, and mud mended the holes in their Sunday shoes. Linen tablecloths were absent here and, the splintered wooden table lay polished with the laughter of children loved and buried. People lived in the villages for safety or stayed close to home. Fathers hunted and mother's nursed their babies, sewing clothing and cooking modest meals. The dialect you spoke, told of who you were and where you came from. It is in this ancestry that Velda was born into.

That was the time that we knew our places and roles were well-defined within the lines of our constructed socio -economic, (Of course we did not call it in these many syllables) box. Velda was baptized in the same church as I. The day I was baptized my family threw a grand affair and I was presented to the family in a white dress as my older brothers. The baptism of Velda was a quiet affair, and many would not have remembered it except it was the same day they placed coins on her father's eyes and the last day her mother wore anything other than black.

When news of the massing armies was encroaching, the men in the village gathered. They spent most nights holed up in the church. They would stop by my fathers store for a quick drink. Then lighting their torches they'd clap each others shoulders and sing a few bars of the bawdy songs of their youth. Laughter eased the tension and many children were born in the next year. It was the beginning of the unrest and the advancement of the soldiers trespassing through our lands.

A new headmaster returned from college in Vienna when I could count 10 years. He was a tall man in his sharp black boots and slick hair. His round wire spectacles made a spectacle of him and his hat lacked luster. He walked with a cane. The children knew its uses were for another purpose. Herr Wendahl taught us with a strict hand. He gave us the ability to speak and read High German, with perfect r's and exact spittle. Our articulation in the repetitive phrases were nothing less than a lifesaver for some. Not Velda.

A rare day it was, when she ventured out of her reality and into ours. I was proud then. She bubbled with laughter and questioned all things. The rest of us would sit quietly, forewarned by the yellow ribbons that remained in her hair as she slunk down the stairwell and took a seat by the window. Her hands folded demurely, her eyes downcast on the dusty desk she asked her questions in a detached voice. Some times her hand would rest upon a thick leather-bound book she brought to class. A single digit of her hand pulsated, scratching imaginary symbols into the leather. The sound deafening in the silent room as we waited on Velda with held breathes.

As sure as a squealing piglet, her mood soured and she'd retreat to the corner, hissing at her boldness. The hair was the last to go. The book she wrapped in the yellow ribbon and twine knotted against her wrist. She held it tight in clawed hand. The other, tore at her boots undoing the laces. Her head would rest upon her desk and the light in her eyes diminished. A wild cry ripped from her throat and she landed on her bum books and boots making a large racket. She frightened herself as she scuttled backwards into her corner. In the darkness, she tore at her hair, covering her face, she would rock until the bell tolled dismissal. Whispering the hoarse words forever burned in my memory.

_Café_  
_Tea._  
_Rum._  
_Blitz._  
_Dum._

To say we were relieved when her fits passed is like saying curdled milk is sour. Relief when she had a fit, and relief when she retreated. Herr Wendahl did not punish her. As I progressed upwards through the year, so Herr Wendahl evolved. The punishments ended with the implementing of an after school detention, which garnered more fear I believed from our fathers than Herr Wendahl. His frustration decreased as did his angry outbursts. The silly cane hung unused on the coat rack and he whistled to and from school, especially the days when night came early and detention lasted till supper time. Rowdy boys and snickering girls sat perfect in the classroom, sober and quiet, focused on the studies. Chuckling as I watched from the window of the Apothecary when they were finally released from their detention with tears flowing freely, hours late for their chores. Children could be so cruel. I was naïve. I was a boy, uneducated in the lusts of some men.

The _Michlinge_, for whom Velda's mother worked to support herself and Velda, understood Velda and developed a strange affection for me. The gifts of soft breads, meat pies and delicate silks softened my mother's stance on speaking with the crazy girl.

"Ernst," My mother called one day.

"Mutta?"

"Her Wendahl thinks you are good for that crazy girl, perhaps cure her of the devils inside her. Appearances must be kept. You may speak with the girl, if you are discreet. Do not let the others see or hear."

"Yes Mutta." She patted my head and clenched me to her in a moment of love she so seldom showed.

Oftentimes Velda was on the porch, unresponsive. If she distinguished the subtle sounds I made from others or my scent I will never know, but she "Turned On" as you would say when she sensed me. Her eyes refocused and she would respond to whoever was attempting to engage her.

Tears would fall from her grey eyes on rainy days, as they stared vacant across the valley at the sun capped mountains in the distance, obscured by the thunderclouds. On sunny days, she would rock or play intricate pattern games with her fingers across her face or lap. Some days she would sing. Many days she spent shifting her weight against the shadows. Many days she spoke to me with unfocused eyes, speaking of things that would come to pass. I kept her secret and listened to her odd ramblings with a discerning ear. I took to writing her rhymes in a small journal I made from spare papers filched from my fathers apothecary.I found them fascinating, and hoped it would give me a glimpse into the workings of her mind."

"What a poor child, she suffered from some mental illness. You were kind to her Ernst, I knew you were a good man." Amanda said stretching her limber body.

"I was kind to her." I agreed with Amanda, but my mind was still back in the Old Country.

"I don't understand Ernst. I should get the doctor. It's as if you have awoken from a deep sleep. You may be able to help the others." Amanda said, grasping my hand, imploring me with her grey eyes.

"Dear Amanda, I have a great need to tell my story. but a greater need for you to retrieve some items for me. Please, do not speak of this with anyone yet. Let us see in a few days,huh." I said, feeling my crooked smile work its way into her heart.

"A few days, Ernst, but the other nurses will know soon enough. What do you need me to retrieve for you?"

"Only a few items I left in a safe deposit box. My children are no longer with me and I have a few things I would like to see again before I pass into the next world. Perhaps you can retrieve them tomorrow."

"Will you continue your story?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I will get your things tomorrow."

"Thank you, Amanda." I said. "My wallet is in the nursing home's safe, it has all the information you need to get into the bank."

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A/N So, any thoughts yet on who Velda is? More to come in the next chapter of Ernst early life. The descriptions of the town where Ernst grew up is loosely based on stories i heard as a child, passed down from those who lived during it as children themselves or what their parents or grandparents shared from the war torn Austrian Hungarian Empire. When i researched some of the towns i discovered much of what was left were piles of rubble, the dialects spoken nearly extinct. I believe in blending truth with fantasy in all my stories and this one is no exception. Devour, the original title still holds significance over the story line and may give you a clue as to where im going with this. Again thanks for reading and review if you can. Next update 2/17 ...till then


	6. Chapter 6

A/N sm owns twilight character, i own my mistakes and crazy Velda

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**Chapter 5**

**Ernst POV, Northern California 1978**

"A cold winter and rainy spring following my mother's permission to speak to Velda, had many villagers ill in our small town. Father was up at in the pre dawn hours mixing compounds to treat the ill. By mid morning my brothers were walking the dirt roads delivering hope. Word came that afternoon when the skies birthed a torrential storm, that Velda's grandfather was gravely ill.

My heart broke and my father shouted anxiously glancing at the clouds second guessing his decision to send me across the valley to deliver the medicine to Velda's grandfather. Pulled from her stupor, she rose to her feet on the dry porch. Her disjointed steps gaining grace as she walked through the rain to stand in front of my father.

"A pony arrived in my grandfather's stable. She is thin, and too small for the butcher. Grandfather has no use for a child's cart. I am unwell to drive. An apothecary can make good use of a pony and its cart. Ernest will return with the pony, in return a life will be saved."  
She stood there rain dripping through her hair, wetting her face and eerily falling down her face in the tracks of tears. Father's deep set eyes narrowed, he looked, uncertain.

"I can escort him if you wish?" she said. Her mouth slackened and her eyes sparkled with humor.

Father's booming laughter curled my lips in a smile, but froze her face into a mask of disinterest. "Child, if only I knew of something to make you well. Yes, you may escort Ernst, if your mother agrees."

Velda cocked her head, wringing her hands, the words falling from her lips, "Unwell is well enough, you heal and I see." she paused, shaking her head, "I will ask Mother"

The walk to her grandfathers was wet and muddy. Trees lined the narrow path leading out of the town, and offered protection from the rain, but Velda refused to walk under them. I trudged behind her muttering at the craziness. I could not understand her, and doubted the day would come where I would.

"You will." she stated.

I didn't think I said it out loud. She giggled and walked in front of me backwards.

"Understand me. One day. You Will."

"Velda, watch where your going, you'll fall and bleed." I said catching her as she slipped on the wet ground.

"Blood is life, blood is death, how the same and not yet. Gold. Yes. Remember the gold. My eyes you will see golden and bright, mind the same, eyes so bright. My eyes you see grey and light, mind is wrong but births the light." she giggled and leaned into my face, forcing me to stop.

"Come, Velda, stop playing your crazy games."

"Listen…." she hissed in my face, imploring me with her eyes. I nodded and her breath left her body in a whoosh. Her eyes snapped, her voice slow and husky raising in tone and speed. "Velda. I am here with you always. Behind the altar, a killer cold as ice, you make the choice right or left, left will die, right to life."

"Velda! stop speaking in riddles! I don't understand." I whined.

She shook me then, her grey eyes staring into mine, "Write it. Read it again and again, it comes this way, for you and me. She sees what I see, but clear in the night, empty your mind to stay from her sight."

"Velda. Please your scaring me." I protested, struggling to pull her cold clammy hands from my chest.

"Velda yes." she said. "I am here with you. Emerald eyes shift and change, the sun reveals what is within. Dying dreams. Embers of fate. Born in haste, lies to protect, to keep the faith. Hidden in the tree by the pond, return to find what I have left. Come, come and play with me I will teach you light." Her eyes burned into mine.

She pushed me to the mud, keeping me pinned with a single finger to my forehead. I lay frightened in the cold earth, by her feral expression. Her eyes rolled, her flopping to my chest her pitiful sobs breaking my young heart, she cried, "It hurts so bad, my head, the pain. There is not other way?" she wailed. Slowly her sobs ebbed, and her whispered words muffled into my soaked shirt, " Yes, yes I will, then go away."

Rolling off of me I missed the warmth her small body provided against the chill of the rain. She crouched in the ankle deep puddle next to us. Without warning, she jumped into the air bending her knees, leaping high like frog and landing on her feet. Wind-milling her arms she whispered loud as round and round she twirled in the rain.

"Come, come play with me. Burn, burn, burn bright, forward back into the light!"

She stopped in a fright. She clapped her hands. I remained in the mud, mesmerized by her crazy behavior, repeating her words in my head to remember them. How could I forget, I realized the rhyming words were for my sake. To make remembering easier.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.  
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.  
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

"Listen, listen, listen right. Gold is cold and blood is red. Warm and yummy keeps them fed. There is another way to roam. Though the forests, near the sea. The sky is dark with rain, bends like forks, straight and green. Before, you go! Stop! At the land of Gate, Ten of Sea, then pause to where I am freed, to see the empty tomb of you and me. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Not quite right, terrors of the night."

Cold pale hands slapped my cheeks grabbing my face . Her eyes unseeing, shifting sideways, her nose against mine, the rain pouring down from the skies. I was hot burning with the heat from her rant.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please," she breathed.

Wiping my hands, I placed them upon her face, closing her lids. Tenderness overwhelmed my heart. I didn't know what she was asking. But I needed to say yes and so I did. She came back to me then with a shudder. Her arms thinner that I thought possible wrapped their way around my neck.

"Ernst is my friend, Love so tight..it makes me sad to see you die, eat yellow berries which bring love and life."

Lost for words I agreed.

"Through and through" she said pulling me to my feet. "To grandfathers we go."

And just like that we resumed our errand. She did not speak another word to me. Later that evening found me creeping along the stone floor of our home, till I found the loose stone near the base of our fireplace. I scraped and pulled until the loosed stone fell free, opening a secure hiding place for my journal of Velda's words, thoughts and actions. Each night following our walk to her grandfather's, I would stay up past bedtime, working on a secure leather binding, adding leaves of paper which I carefully sewed using one of my mothers thick needles. Weeks passed in this manner. When I was satisfied the little journal was secure in its new bindings, did sleep return to its regular restful pattern."

I sighed, my mouth thirsty from all the retelling. I reached for the glass of water on my nightstand. Amanda helped my shaking hands so I could drink.

"Is Velda's Journal in the safe box." Amanda asked.

"Yes and a few baubles and mementos of my life. Perhaps, you could bring all that is in the safe as well?" I asked, wetting my lips. I regained much control over my once slack mouth. I was pleased.

"It is late Ernst, and as much as your story fascinates me, I must return to work, and you need your rest." Amanda said, refilling the glass with water from the lukewarm pitcher.

"Thank you Amanda," I said when she settled my aching bones in bed, pulling the covers high under my neck.

" I will have your things from you tomorrow night when I return for my next shift. Sleep well Ernst." She said, dimming the lights in the room and closing the door at my request.

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A/N So, anyone have any ideas on Velda? i hope you are enjoying the reading, i enjoy writing and listening to my characters as they "speak" with me. LOL, i hope to update tuesday again. till later be safe.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Sm owns twilight characters.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

****Amanda brought a large shopping bag the following evening during her lunch break, filled with the contents of my safe deposit box. She had a curious smile on her face.

"Ernst, I find it interesting the place is not buzzing with your recovery."

"My dear," I said, "I hold my secrets, and kept the charade of my earlier condition."

We laughed and while she ate her brown bag lunch, I continued the story. She was eager and impatient to see the contents of the cedar boxers which housed my most precious possessions. I was eager as well, for she was captivated and drawn to me and my story just as Velda predicted so many years ago. She was destined to be in my life, giving me strength to continue to the darkest part of my young life.

My hard leather soles hurt my feet. They had grown during the wet spring of my twelfth year and the wet leather rubbed against my wool sock which rubbed against the raw skin of my ankles and heels. I couldn't run and needed to hurry home to help Father with packing a large order to be shipped covertly to a bunch of smelly gypsies hidden in the countryside. It was against the social edict to aid the wandering people, who were nothing less than story telling thieves who ate garlic to ward off pagan spirits. I even heard in times when food was scarce, they ate their children. Well not really but it sounded so much more terrifying than selling their children for food. They paid well in silver and gold nuggets.

My father thought it best I make the delivery with the pony cart. Father believed any errant solders would not be suspicious of a young boy. He armed me with some bottles of whiskey as bribes in case and the wooden crate housing the contraband was cleverly disguised as my seat. I was late and elongated my legs to carry me faster. I couldn't do it any longer, i needed to remove my shoes. I stopped by the corner of the postmaster. Dirty feet were a better option than Fathers belt.

Veda scurried into the alley, her dress splattered with mud. Crouching, her eyes wide and her hands plunged into her hair grasping as she silently screamed, jumping up and down._OH! WHY NOW?_ Were my thoughts as I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me. I heard her mother yelling her name, searching for her crazy daughter.

"Veda," I whispered reaching my hand to her. She cringed away and I pulled my hand through my shoulder length hair. It needed a trimming, since winter my hair grew when the barber cut it last before he fell ill. Mother joked I was her only daughter. I snorted. All the boys in school had long hair, we drew straws and made a pact, I was one of the last boys with an appointment with our infirmed barber.

As wild as an animal she cornered herself against the wall. The silent screaming and tearing stopped. She fell to the ground on her hands and feet breaking some old milk bottles left in a crate. The noise was sure to alert her mother. I aI backed away. Up on her knees she pulled herself. Her limp hair falling over her face, her grey eyes searching. Her hands reaching through the tangles, her voice scraping the words painfully oh, so painfully from her shattered mind.

"Kick. Back. To. Go. Go. Forward. I. can't. Take. It. Back. To. Go. Forward. You. Must. Live. You. Must. Die. Take. Some. Away. So. You... Die .to. Live .to. Lie."

"What are you saying Velda? I cannot understand." I said and she repeated the crazy words over and over, tears fell down her eyes and she dropped to all fours again. I didn't want to understand. I couldn't suppress the panic that blew through me. I buried the words in my brain. Her mother's voice carried closer. I picked up my shoes, shaking my head. The sound broke through her senses and she looked up at me with her anguished eyes, violently retching and heaving in her frenzy. Her voice raw with the strained whispers, her back arched in pain.

"Gold and cold can save one, you must choose right, and leave the left."

"Velda, you are not well. I am getting your mother."

"Mother's die, he must live. You must take what I give. Promise!". Fisting my shirt her eyes searching mine. "Say it. Ernst and remember!"

"I promise Velda to take what you give. Now let me go, Father waits." I wrenched myself free of her grasp.

She tackled me, her eyes rolling, shaking me with her tiny hands."The yew berries yellow, yew berries red, choose the yellow, take what I give, you will live to die to live to lie yes Ernst yes. It is the way."

My own tears fell and I ran out of the alley in selfishness, her words repeating in my head. I waved at Velda's mother, running over to her.  
"She's there hiding and crying in the alley!"

Unable to give Veld's buxom mother any more of my time, I ran off shouting that Father needed me now. Velda's mothers lips formed into a tight line and I knew telling on Velda would result in some sort of beating for her. My heart clenched but my own hide was in jeopardy."

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A/N Once again all errors are my own. I would like to clarify, that this is a story of the Cullens, It is a history of them, hidden from themselves due to the workings of fate. i try to remain as true as possible to the Saga's history and timeline regarding the Cullens, they will make an appearance soon. Next update over the weekend. till later be safe.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N SM owns the characters of twilight i own my mistakes and poor Ernst.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Your father was a tough man." Amanda commented.

I shook my head, running a hand through the sparse hair on my head. I had not lost it all as many of my brethren, but the brown coloring was muted. It felt different through the years, and I missed its thickness and the comfort it gave. " He was not hard, he was just and kind. He taught me, the only way he knew. Back then as a young boy, i didn't understand and, as I tell the story, it saddens me I did not understand that."

"We all understand our parents, when we've grown." Amanda said, packing the remains of her lunch away.

"I suppose. I hope mine will understand and forgive me for not being the father I yearned to be." the sadness and regret filling me, I felt my weak eyes water and Amanda's warm pliant hand grasped mine, the other on my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes.

"Ernst," she said, her voice quiet and sincere, "I've known you for several years, but last night I learned more about the young man you were. I can say, truthfully, if you were half as compassionate as a young man than you were as a child, then I believe you did all you could for your children."

A bitter laugh escaped my dry lips. Oh, if only she knew how vile some of my actions were as a young man, but then again, it was for the sake of my children. I needed Amanda, and I prayed to Velda; hoping she had the answer, to convincing this compassionate woman to my mission, in the cedar box. "You may not think the same, once you've heard it all." I said.

"Ernst, you and your words are all I have thought of since last night. I am drawn to it more than I should be. You seem at peace when you speak of it. Please, continue."

Drawing a deep breath, I nodded, releasing her hand as she settled into the chair beside the bed. Heat flared into my cheeks and ears, if Amanda noticed, she didn't say, but the shame burned for a moment until I gathered my bearings. What happened next in my life was pivotal to how I lived. Today, I know I would not have traveled the course. I forgave Velda for misleading me. With a final deep breath, I squeezed Amanda's hand and let the words spill from my lips.

"Luckily for me, my father was in a rare mood and had finished loading the cart. He even packed a small lunch bucket and a blanket. He applied some salve to the bleeding blisters, wrapping them with soft linen. Since I was driving, father said I could leave my feet bare, besides sometimes running was sometimes good for your health. Yes? No.

The answer is both. But what is the question? That was a lesson I learned that day, on my hand and knees in the mud, under a tree, eye to eye with my dying pony. Her large round eyes rolling with fear, her sides heaving with her dying gasps. Did I push her too hard? Is that why she tired so quickly? Did my kindness draw attention to myself again? Was I rushing to get home, before my brothers, to bask in my father's pride for a job well done. Was I frightened of the impending night. Did the lingering panic over Velda's insanity create a negative propulsion in the direction of a tragic events. I didn't know. Velda did.

Still to this day, though the memory itself is faded, the thought clenches my spine in bone chilling fear and guilt. I remember that afternoon in a series of emotions, sounds and silent images.

The smell whisky and the feel of rough whiskers are faint, but still exist, in my memory. The whispered threats and urgings. The primal fear and the resulting shame of betrayal of my body caving in to unknown sensations; my mind screaming for it to stop and the part that wanted more. The sounds of my mewing cries mixed with the grunts of a rebel soldier no boy's ears should be privy to.

The fumbling idiot with the pot belly pushed my head to the ground inches from my beaten pony, the life seeping from her broken legs, and her eyes rolling in sympathy. The ghostly sensations against my back and calloused hands fondling, still induce the shudders of disgust I feel now. The feeling of the hot viscous fluids dripping from all of me, after they passed out, when I dragged myself through the dark forest to die, was like the wriggling of worms over my skin. To die by their bullets would have been merciful. my bare feet tricked me into a hole, and I was dug out by their hands and held as a farmer would a grub. Only later, when my dead pony's bloated belly rumbled against my ear and their snores of exhaustion wakened me, I was roused from my dying stupor.

Something inside of me pushed my broken limbs forward and I crawled, covered in filth. The light was weak when I reached the shallow stream. The icy water, with is mind numbing shocks of sting across every exposed part of my naked body, awakened my battered mind. I lunged across the stream. My only thought to escape or die, as I knew I could not endure another round. I buried myself in soft evergreen bushes and covered myself with leaves with my broken hands. I can not tell you how long I remained there. The fear was overwhelming as I do remember the sounds drunken guffaws, as they searched for me. Thirst awakened me and rolling over I saw a beacon of hope, inches from my eyes, red berries. The very ones we were not permitted to eat. The poisonous ones. Next to them, three yellow ones. I remember seeing my hand, bloody and raw, Plucking the gold from the green. I heard Velda's words in my ear as passed into unconsciousness.

_And one to hear__  
unspoken lies,  
plucked from the green  
golden in a sense  
the course conceives  
the heart full hurt  
__my sight is seen_

"Oh, Ernst!"

"Please, Amanda, Give me a moment." I asked.

I needed a moment. A moment indeed. I could not look at Amanda, and hoped my words conveyed the feelings that stayed with me that day, without the intimate details I had no wish to recount. Gratefully, Amanda was silent. It was a moment indeed. For as many times as I tried not to recount that day, I remembered the whispered words of a girl who I knew could not be there. I remembered them, and years later the nightmares of that night ended when I deciphered the hidden meaning of those words. I shuddered again, knowing that later in my life, I administered the mercy bullet, to spare another from my fate. I lite a candle every year for her, until I called this place home. Perhaps, Amanda may light one for me.

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A/N My internet connection crapped out on me several times while editing this chapter, hence i split the chapter i dont want to loose it again. thank you for reading and staying with me. Next update later today or tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N SM owns the twilight characters. I own my over active imagination and errors. we continue with Ernst's dialogue.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"I was found by the same gypsies I was taught my entire life were the lowest of the lowly. Not worthy to spit upon. Their lives were not worthy of life. They were good enough to cheat out of their moneys. They were run out of towns by villagers and peasants, afraid of their fortunes and magics.

Days passed and I saw myself through their eyes. A ravaged shell of a boy unable to eat or drink without assistance, like a babe. My days were spent in a colorful wagon, where I was gently cradled and washed by soft cooing women with missing teeth. My nights were spent with the rough voiced men, patting my head, and telling me stories attempting to draw me from my shattered mind.

One day, the grandmother, she argued with the men. She dressed me in red. I was too weak to stand. I lay in the bed as she rolled me too and fro unclenching my stiff limbs and unresponsive mind. She argued, a striking figure on her long colorful shawls and craggy face. Her braid whipping to and for, she got into the faces of the men and pointed fingers into the faces of the women.

"You dare deny that he is now my son, found where mine died, Found, on the anniversary of his birth, as foretold in the histories?"

"No, we do not but..." a leather voice protested

"Then the ceremony of his baptism will commence."

Arms crossed over her breast and a satisfied scowl, she urged me to watch through a part in the dark velvet curtain. I pressed my face against glass of the wagon, leaning back into her soft, warm arms, without words, she knew I wanted the security she offered. The stereotypical gypsies appeared outside the wagon bearing gifts in their arms. The old man spewed his acceptance. One by one they placed their offerings below the window I cowered behind. The atmosphere changed from defiance to acceptance. One by one they peered at the window I hid. The ceremony,foretold in their legacy, was conducted by the wrinkled patriarch Gulag. Under the watchful eyes of Baba Ruthi, the matriarch, I became Anton.

The cadence their speech in my language was still unfamiliar to my ears. Their understanding of the workings of the world, to my furtive glancing eyes strange. The countryside rolled past my unseeing eyes, they were turned inward, to the muddy field under the tree and the rolling pony eyes. I was held in strong arms cocooned in warm blankets and offered warm milk. The elderly matriarch held my gaze, grounding me, when I could not bear to be within my mind and healing body. I refused to walk as standing pulled the scarring carvings on my back. Their patience was without end, as spring turned to summer

They gave me a home and safety. They coddled me. Baba Ruthi, my safe grandmother and Gulag her husband, gave me strength to remember past the physical and emotional pain. They comforted the boy huddled in the corner who was breathing corpse, and in their infinite wisdom of days long ago, found the actions and words to animate the boy into living again.

One day, I was cajoled to leave the safety of the bed to hobble into the sunshine. I smelled the vile bastards before I saw them. The solders drunk on my fathers whiskey and high on the pillaged drugs made by his hands. Gulag's son, a large man with dark black beard and mustache, ripped me from the soft confines of Baba Ruthi's arms. His golden teeth sparked in the bright sun. He pushed me. I tumbled on hands and knees at their boots. My eyes unable to register_ they_ were securely bound. My body reacted before my mind. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Irrational fear crept up my spine and trickled to the ground. Feral screams intensified my terror. I unable to even comprehend they were ripped from my vocal cords. I only understood that I was thrust at their feet. My stomach lurched the meager food out.

A small warm hand, touched my check and I flinched away. Soft green eyes like mine framed by fiery red curls filled my watery eyes. A girl, not older than I, hushed my babbling cries. My mind rationed that something so beautiful would surely be a source of comfort I so desperately needed I clung to her small frame. My mind galloped further and I whipped her around, covering her body with mine, exposing my battered back to the vile ones so close. I needed her away they were too close and I could not let them hurt her. I struggled to pick her up can carry her away. My body weak, we collapsed in a heap after a few steps.

Baba Ruthi grabbed me, turning rabid on her husband and son fiercely swearing his stupidity. Muttering she carried my half-grown body into the wagon. The girl following, as I refused to release her hand. Baba Ruthi's smoothed my hair. She grabbed my chin roughly, planting her eyes in front of my face, so close the hairs of her uni-brow tickled my nose. Her accent thick as she spoke in my language.

"You are a man now. Men do not have regrets, they have secrets." her muddy brown eyes held mine. The sticky odor of her breath, fuzzied my lips. She pulled both me and the girl to her bosom. The flowery scent that calmed me in its softness. Rocking in time with my gasping breaths, calmness claimed my heart and mind.

"Watch, my young ones and do not forget. We are alone in this world and justice is what we make of it. The blood of these men seep into the ground tonight. A ritual and offering to those we protect. We are the last, the Selfless, giving until we can give no more. Our past ends and your future begins with blood. The Benefecti suffers, but not without reason, you will give him what he most desires, and in turn will save your heart. My daughter, will sit with you, while I tend to the affairs of the clan."...

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A/N thank you for your patience with getting this chapter out. a lot longer that i anticipated hope you enjoyed wanted to clarify something if it wasnt clear the clan who Ernst is with appear as gypsies. they are a wandering tribe of people similar to the Romany but they are not. What do you think so far? should i continue? let me know please...till later be safe


	10. Chapter 10

A/N SM owns the saga, i just like to play. enjoy

* * *

Chapter 9

"If you could fetch some soda and a snack perhaps I can relate the rest of my story."  
"Oh, absolutely. Would you like to get ready for bed, before I get some snacks?"  
"No no. Just the snacks. Please don't fret, I feel as if I have been given a second lease on life tonight and I do not wish it to end. Perhaps I will not wake in the morning, I feel the urgent need to share my personal story with someone. Before the doctors come and test me to no end."

My words had the desired effect. Amanda relaxed and smiled brightly her grey eyes crinkling. She patted me on my shoulder and hurried out of the room, slightly closing the door behind her. I sighed, and slumped into my chair. I rubbed my hand against my face. The stimulation increased circulation and I rubbed my neck and shoulders and arms. I adjusted myself. The lights dimming as I leaned forward to rub my thighs and legs. My, they were scraggly. Heavy and sluggish they responded to my attempts at lifting each one of my feet up off the foot rest. I massaged the bony knobs of my knees and ankles.

I felt alive. The last time I felt this alive was years. Releasing the brake of the wheel chair, I pushed myself to the night stand.

Rummaging around mess of personal care, trash and medical equipment, my heart pounded, infusing my body with adrenaline. I had found the small copper puzzle box engraved with pictographs. Shaking hands and trembling fingers worked to push and pull the puzzle into shape and unlock the small compartment.

The tin was a relic of the people I knew as gypsies, those who cared for me and became my second family. A gift from Gulag, a thank you and congratulations rolled into one, a keepsake and a reminder of one of the failures of my long life.

Youth. How I wished I could recapture it, see with my eyes the crisp newness of life. To touch the silken skin of my lovers cheek flushed with pleasure and to kiss the swollen swell of her creamy breast again, to recapture in the pit of my stomach the curling rapture of my first love. Sigh, I was a man, my daughter would slap me upside my head when she caught me staring at nimble young women. It wasn't often that I stared, only at the green eyed, red haired ones, but she managed to catch me nonetheless and I would receive an earful that would not deter my ogling if another should wander by. It wasn't a lust full thing you see. Not at all. My daughter did not understand. How could she.

How do you explain that they remind you of one so pure in your heart that the only picture you have is that in your mind. The face of a dream come to life, haunting torture wonder all my life if then…. And if it was real. The comparisons keep it real and tied to the feeling of so long ago you wonder if it really happened or have you mind tricked you into making more of something when it truly was that wonderful.

The curve of her neck and the crinkle of her eyes. The dimple on her right cheek and the softness of her raven hair, released from the tight braids worn behind her. These were the differences I saw, These were the only pictures I have of a girl, no woman who taught me love and joy and the inconceivable notions of what it meant to love and live.

She taught me…

I stopped working the puzzle and purposely missed a panel. I could not open it now. The pain arrived, ripping my heart. No, there was no way a mind could imagine this heart wrenching agony. It could only be real. Of course I knew that. I lived it. I repressed it. I was such a shit at times.

I had cried so many tears, for so many years I believed them used up. My throat hitched. I squinted against the sting of tears that welled in my thin puffy lids. My dentures slipped scraping a gash in my gums as I unclenched my jaw. Fitting tears and blood, as so much of my youth contained as much horror as it did joy.

The answer is to live, regardless of the question. I was a survivor, some called it traitor or coward. But it was only always to live.

I turned the box in my hand, letting the blood pool in my lips, tasting. Blood, runs through us, and ties us to our family. It runs deep red when it spills violently regardless of race, religion or age. Yet, it knows its enemies and rejects with ferocity that which it knows is not the same. We are all the same and yet very different when it is shed. It stains us.

Turning the box in my hands, I swallowed the blood in my mouth, exactly like the first time. Gulag, the great grandfather of the sleeping bundle in my arms, sat wrapped in blankets smoking his pie, sipping tea waiting to see the face of his treasured granddaughter's child. Pride welled in me as I presented my first born son to this bear of a man. The dark thatch of curls peeked from my elbow. I licked the blood from my lips now as I did then. I remembered his birth.

His first cries carried over the icy wind and the crackling barrel fires. In that moment I listened to the sound eagerly awaiting to hear another. Instead, laugher and hooting from my adoptive brothers all who have become fathers already and knew.

I ran, careless of the ice and rock under my loosened boots and fell face first onto the wagon steps. The hooting increased, when the door opened and I fell inside to the clucking of the midwife. She tended my slit lip with slow hands. My knee bounced with each whisper, giggle and gasp behind the curtain in front of me. My family, that I created, with my beautiful girl was there.

"Please," I whispered, "Please. I must see her, I must see him."

The mid wife chuckled, patting my lip with the wet cloth. Using a clean rag she washed my hands and my face. She brushed the long strands of hair from my face and helped me out of my jacket. She messed with my hair. Finally after what seemed like hours of preening and tending she pulled the curtain aside and I dove in.

There upon our marriage bed she lay propped up on pillows of the gaudiest red green and purple pillows. Her green eyes tired yet sparking with tears of joy. A smile crept upon her lips, spreading to light up her face and she beamed a toothy grin that spread to mine. We were so young, so in love, I was giddy. Our gaze full of love and promise. Words were not needed and I did not heed the words of the mother and aunt who played midwife as well. I sat upon our bed, gingerly wrapping my arms around my love and placed a kiss upon her forehead. Her hair smelled of lavender and fresh clean linen and something more distinct and unique. She smelled of woman and child and it pulled at my heart and hormones.

"I love you. You are so beautiful and amazing." I whispered.

She beamed at me and placed a feathery kiss on my cheek.

"He is perfect, like you Ernst. Come, see you son. See what we made."

She took my hand and together we pulled the blanket discreetly covering her breasts. For an instant I felt a surge of jealousy at the interlopers red lips sucking on what once was mine alone. Then, if he could read my thoughts, her nipple slipped from his mouth and a contented triple sigh escaped my sons lips He buried his head as only a newborn could against the billowy softness. She dropped her elbow and his head lolled forward enough to see his face.

"Perfect", I cooed.

The love I felt bubbled out and surrounded this boy that was my son that I made. His shock of brown hair was mine, but the streaks of red his mothers. I saw my brother in his nose and my mother in his forehead. His eyes, she said may change, but they were more green than blue.

Touching his translucent hand, I marveled at his fingertips, and we giggle when he gripped my finger tight. We unwrapped our precious gift one section at a time, covering him back up as we explored our son together. I could not get enough of his feet. Tiny replicas of mine, the toes were so flexible. We giggled and cooed. As night fell, against the wishes of her mother and Aunt, I stayed in bed.

Baba Ruthi poked her head in and called the midwife and Aunt to the other room, requesting their assistance in transforming my red dress into a size acceptable for a newborn.

Dark brown eyes locked to mine. I dropped mine in shame at the memory. It was something I could forget and remember in its clarity for all of time.

She pointed her finger at me, "It is our tradition. He will be blessed. It is our way. It has been foretold. All will be well."

She pulled my close, her mouth on my ear as she whispered his name, Edward Anthony. We were free to call him what we wished, but this name was bound to his soul. She warned me again, reminding me to give it only to the Benefecti, to keep for all time, no even my wife would know his real name.

I held tight to my family, wrapping them in my arms, as my wife fell asleep after nursing my greedy son, I whispered words of comfort and sang songs of praise and love, and of all we would do. I wanted the world for my son, but knew soon all too soon this peace would end as time trekked forward toward the inevitable foretelling. I vowed to do all in my power to evade it. I watched as their ribs rose and fell in time. I listened to her heartbeat against my ear and felt his faster beat match hers. It was spring of 1901, I was a sixteen year old man without any regrets, and my secrets, were washed away with the birth waters of my son.

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A/n so we meet a cullen, notexactly how i planned it but Ernst insisted it was time, LOL. What do you think, next update in a week reviews would make my weekend and earn you .a teaser till later be safe


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: SM owns the characters, i own this crazy plot and characters. Unbeta'd as usual so im sorry for the errors, works been killing me and i wanted to get this out asap. thanks for reading and putting up with my errors hope you enjoy.

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

**New Hampshire 2014**

Edward sat at the piano working on the new composition for Leah, inspired by her thoughts and memories for the upcoming anniversary of his death. Bella and Alice were spending the day at the local market where she 'saw' the antique picture frame that Esme wanted. He chucked to himself as the tinkling melody took shape. Renesmee called as she was boarding her flight to Romania with Jacob, Emmett and Rosalie. His lips quirking into a slight frown as his fingers danced over the ivory keys. As much as he had come to accept Jacob, Renesmee was still his baby girl and he willed his mind to ignore the images Jacob tried to keep from him. He tried to remind himself it was a cordial visit to their Romanian friends, but with Emmett calling it a Double Moon, he had some difficulty.

Snapping his head at the shrill ringtone dread filled his body as he flashed to the small silver phone mounted by the fireplace. The phone was Charlie's only link to the Cullen's since they left Forks. Ever mindful of the Voluturi's veiled threat seven years ago on the baseball field, the Cullen's cut all visible ties with Charlie. The Wolves' maintained constant vigil and all clandestine visits occurred on their land. Charlie never called; instead, the weekly calls to Charlie were made by Bella, and guided by Alice. The phone rang again

"Charlie." Edward said his voice neutral.

"Edward, Thank god." Charlie said Edward heard the stress pouring form Charlie's gruff voice.

"Charlie, is everything all right?" Edward said, pinching his nose, wishing they were on the other side of the States now.

"Edward, I think. I don't know." Charlie stuttered, "How soon can you get here?"

Without hesitation, Edward said, "Tomorrow morning, Charlie what's going on?"

"I received a letter from a bank in McKinley Ville California. Edward, something is not right."

"Charlie, what did the letter say? Is someone threatening you?"

"No, no threats, Edward. It states a bank is closing and a safety deposit box opened in 1978 needs to be collected."

Impatient as always, Edward sighed, this was not new. Banks closed often, and the Cullen's received similar letters on occasion, "Charlie, it happens, it's okay."

"Edward." Charlie sounded exasperated, "Let me finish. The box was opened in 1978. In Bella's name. Isabella Marie Cullen. Twelve years Edward. Twelve years before she was born."

Silence. Edward slumped against the wall. His cell phone rang. The house phone rang.

"Edward? Edward?"

"We'll be there tomorrow." Edward said. "Stay at the Reservation. Let them know were coming, and to double patrols. Be careful Charlie."

"Always am. See you tomorrow."

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A/N This was a worrisome chapter, i think its a little early and pretty much im afraid i cant 'speak' like the cannon character. lemme know what you think be safe next update two weeks. till later t


	12. Chapter 12

A/N All errors are my own, and i own nothing of the saga. Ernst's story is mine, as is my overactive imagination and errors.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Soon after my son's birth, the travels of the family brought us close to my birth parents' Village. Gulag insisted I return with my adoptive brothers if only to drop a letter. Gazing into my sons emerald eyes, I knew. I knew parents deserve to know their child is safe, and I would do anything to keep my son safe as well.

The countryside was littered with evidence of the increasing violence. We discussed the whispered rumors of rebel uprising and Prussian soldiers nightly. Our circle of wagons tightened at night and we took turns each evening keeping watch with our dogs.

Six weeks after the birth of my son, I rolled out of our warm bed, delayed by my sweet wife's embrace. The raucous pounding of my brothers against the door, woke my slumbering son. Holding him close and inhaling his peace inducing scent, I placed him against my wife's breast, his greedy suckling bringing a smile to my lips as I kissed his head. He was a strong boy oh so beautiful, like his mother, but she insisted she could see me in his features. His milky white skin a perfect contrast against his green eyes and reddish-brown hair.

Leaving the warmth of the wagon, my brothers and I jogged the two miles to my hometown. The run warming our cold bodies. We entered the village from the north, passing the church and we were well into the courtyard when the silence of the morning and the smell of death pressed upon us. Our feet crunching under the film dewy ice, echoed noisily as I lead the way toward my old home.

Velda's home was burned to the ground and when I saw the open doorways, fire scorched windows greeting me at my father's Apothecary, the gravity of what occurred sunk into my shocked brain. I scrambled up the remains of the porch ad stood in the broken doorway of my parents' home. Broken bottles and utensils scattered on the floor. The counter my father polished with his rough hands lay splintered and covered in mud. A fine dusting of snow covered the furthest corners. In the gloomy darkness, I stumbled over my father's boots, landing on my mother's Sunday shawl, frozen stiff and stained. My trembling hands grasping the shawl, ripping it from its rust colored trap. My eyes fell upon the shredded remains of her favorite day dress atop an upturned chair. It was in that moment I saw what had transpired in my absence. My parents fought whoever ransacked the town and lost. Time lost all meaning as memories of my parents flooded my brain in slow motion, to the pounding of my rushing heartbeat

Through the din of my heart, I heard my brothers yelling at me, dragging me and hauling me through the back door into the neglected garden. A shot rang out, clearing the sound of rushing blood and my pounding heart, restarting time, giving me mere seconds to realize soldiers in grey wool jackets surrounded us. A sharp pain in the back of my head and my world went blissfully dark.

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A/N Sorry for the clifhanger, Ernst is wanting to talk alot and i convinced him to condense the next chapter which is written but needing a quick edit. ill post next chapter by wendsday, maybee sooner if i get the time. i would love to hear from you guys so please review or pm me and share your thoughts. till later be safe t.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N first i want to thank everyone who is reading this crazy story! Secondly **YELP! Covering face in mortification! ** It came to my attention i miss posted several weeks ago, i posted two chapter 13s instead of chapter 12, Confusion i know, easily done with me with simple things like doors,, locks and apparently with prologue as a chapter. ANother one of my quirks, the more complicated the less confused i get. I deleted and will repost the chapters, So so sorry,

**CHAPTER 12**

Northern California 1978

Amanda returned with the promised snacks, with a small smile on her lips as she set up my rolling tray. Fresh strawberries, and honey with a bowl full of vanilla ice cream filled the room with its delightful scent. Amanda was a kind soul, and I knew life did not throw signs at you without reason. She was my reason I emerged from my slumber, why else would she bring me the few items that would evoke the deepest memories to come forth by scent alone.

"I take it by the look on your face Ernst, that life was not kind to you after the birth of your son." Amada said.

"No, my dear, but I assure you, my only wish is more time."

"If only it were in my power Ernst, I would give you all the time in the world. Your recovery alone is miraculous in my eyes."

"Ah, sweet girl, fate does have a hand in all our lives." I said popping a cut berry in my mouth, relishing the sweet tartness offset by a dollop of honey. Suddenly I was eager to resume my tale. Sensing my exuberance, Amanda settled on the chair, tipping her head to mine.

"Six weeks, after my son's birth I returned to my hometown, it was ransacked by soldiers, and we were captured. You must remember at the time civil unrest was common in many parts of Eastern Europe, the old feudal system tried to hang, and nationalism was strong and expanding. That is another story. Beaten and striped of our heavy coats and shoes we were left to huddle on the dirt floor of a tent. They were soldiers from a Prussian envoy and spoke High German and so I translated for my brothers. The soldiers overheard me and hauled us to the captain. They stripped me in front of the men and my shame exposed as he examined my scars and listened to my story. Unknown to my brothers, the soldiers and me captured the rest of our family. Those brothers who fought were shot execution style after watching our women give themselves to the soldiers in every way they could to save their husbands and brothers.

"The captian was a cruel man. He decided I was indeed an educated citizen, living as a gypsy he offered me a way out. Just for me. He would set my brothers free, if i joined his arm and proved my loyalty. Foolish and naive as only sixteen year old can be, I believed him.

Amanda's wide horror filled eyes conveyed her sympathy. I remembered the screams of the women, calling for my bound brothers, as I was lead in my new clothes past the prisoners who were my family. Baby Ruth stood tall and proud with my wife and child huddled at her feet. The captain smiled a wicked and evil smile that chilled me to my core.

I continued my story, leaving out the details of my own horror, keeping my voice calm and steady.

"The captain gave me a choice to prove my loyalty. I could have one of the prisoners. Again, I knew not how twisted his mind worked. Baba Ruthi pulled my son from my wife's arms. Holding him in her strong arms. Her eyes on mine, mouthing words. My brothers struggled against their captors. I chose.

The soldiers lined the prisoners outside the barricade. My family, beaten and ragged stood proud awaiting their death. My brothers were set free, as the cold metal shook in my hands. Instead of running, they embraced their wives and children. Babi Ruthi sang. The family joined in and fell to their knees as one.

The captain whispered, reminding me that this was my choice and there was time to change my mind. I met my wife's dry eyes, full of acceptance and the cries of my son quieted. Baba Ruthi and the other women bowed their heads when the song ended. I lifted the lead in my hand, and took aim. Not once, but fourteen times, and, when it was over, I traded the pistols for my son from the captains hands. His hiccupping cries stilled and his wide eyes locked onto mine, ageless in every sense, his tiny hand fisted my finger."

I wringing my hands in my lap I waited for Amanda's reaction. She sat still in the chair, her ice cream a melted puddle in the bowl.

"I am a monster and murderer. I understand if I never see you again. I am sorry." I said. Dropping my face in my hands. What prompted me to tell her these things? I felt warm arms encircle my bony shoulders and her hand rubbing down my crooked back.

"Ernst oh Ernst, I am so sorry. No, you are not a monster. You were still just a boy, a man yes, but you were still a boy. There are no words to tell you how deeply I am touched and moved, the sacrifice by your family for what they believed in and the horrible things you did for your son to survive." She broke down then, her body shaking against mine. "I'm sorry, it is so sad the horror you lived through and live with."

After a long while, she let me go, wiping her eyes, "Your son, does he know what happened?"

"No, that was the last night I ever saw him."

"Ernst!" Amanda cried her hand covering her face, "Oh god don't tell me he died that night."

"No, no my dear, it was not all in vain. That night in the tent, my son slept and cried in my arms, sucking the water-soaked rag in frustration. The captain knew my son would die without a wet-nurse, and took delight in my agony. I was distraught, clawing my hair, tearing my skin, anything to take away the images of the day, living with the knowledge I was manipulated, whipping myself with ways I could have saved my family I had not been so weak. No Amanda, that night, a man came to my aid. Gulag, received word a doctor was a few towns away and the family was to meet with him. The doctor, he heard the shots. He stole into the tent, when I saw him; I knew from his the color of his eyes and his voice he was the Benefecti Babi Ruthi spoke about."

"You gave him your son?" Amanda asked.

"It was easier than I thought. As a traveling doctor, he was in Austria, treating an American woman who gave birth to a stillborn son a few weeks prior. She nearly lost her life, and the birth made her unable to bear children, she fell into a deep depression. The husband delayed their trip home while the doctor treated the woman. Meanwhile, the doctor's colleague sent a letter informing him of a motherless child in a nearby city. The child died hours before he arrived in the village. It was there the Good doctor, The Benefecti heard the shots, and investigated. In the state I was in, I saw it as fate. He saw it, as Gods will. He took my son, promising me the grieving mother would care for him as her own. How could she not, she had green eyes as well. I refused until he swore an oath to do everything in his power to keep him alive and well, and love him like a son if anything should happen to his adoptive parents. He brought me the dead child; my tears of grief were real though the child was not mine. "

"So your son, he was raised here in America? Did you ever see him, reconnect with him?"

"I saw him once, in Chicago, but I was afraid"

"Afraid of what Ernst?"

Of what indeed. I waved her off unwilling to answer, remembering the moment I lay my eyes on my son for first time in twenty years. The shock of his perfection, I saw my dear wife in the delicate lines of his strong jaw, and chin, the set of her eyes and the quirk of his eyebrow. His hair was unruly brown like mine but kissed with her bronze strands. I remembered the violence of her death at my hands. I remembered the pounding of my heart, cold sweat breaking from my skin as the victims of my enslavement to the army flickered in, and endless stream, and I remembered the journal of Velda's words and wiped my mind clear of all thought. For one brief second i saw the fury in his eyes, as he scanned the street. I forced myself to turn my back and walk away from my son, my thoughts focused on repeating a prayer of forgiveness in my mind as I was contrite in my actions and repulsed by what I had experienced. I thought of all the ways I have tried to make amends and the fear dissipated with each agonizing step I took away from my beautiful child.

"I was afraid of the truth my dear Amanda."

Her eyebrows puckered in confusion, I took her soft supple hands in my own swollen and weak ones, leaning forward, and I had to impress upon her the magnitude of this moment.

"We are all part of a greater force; the world is defiled by monsters, vestiges of our primordial evolution, who demand the examination of the definition of humanity. Those like Velda, see in a different perspective, their existence generates fear, forcing their extinction. Others like myself who take a moment to try to unravel the mystery of their complex mind find something else."

"Like I found you? I am one of the others?" She asked and I nodded. She blew out a breath, rubbing her thumbs against the knobby bones of my hand. "What do I do now?"

"Go home. Think about the possibilities. Regardless of what you decide, it is as it should be.

"Velda?"

"Gave me a map, the journey is far from over."

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A/N Next chapter shortly


	14. Chapter 14

A/N Thank you for all who are reading and your patience. usual disclaimer applies. Hope you enjoy,

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**Chapter 13**

I lay in the stiff hospital bed, reminiscent of the ground I slept on while under the watchful eyes of the Captain. Brave men die at the hands of those who proclaim they are fearless... I was never fearless. I lacked the courage as a young man, boy really, now that I look back on it and as I sit here watching the youth of today pass me by. However as an old dying man resurrected from my slumber, I know that time is fleeting and perhaps all will work as it was foretold.

However, back to the cowardly boy I was, I did as I was told in the dark days after I murdered my family. I have little recollection of that time, a swirling mass of blood and sin to fill the void of my regrets and guilt. I vomited many times over the course of the years when I happen to remember a snippet of my darkest days. Several weeks after that horrific early spring day in 1901, I had a revelation while we razed a hospital and the men were having their way with the unfortunate ones. I feigned illness, escaping to my tent, but I could not stop myself from hearing the acts occurring in the courtyard. I remained in my tent, when my bunk mate, a vile man with dirty blond hair burst in.

"Captain says they found girls hiding in the root cellar and he's saving them for dessert tomorrow." He laughed. "Says if you do not participate with his generous offer, he will have you brand them in the morning. He is quite displeased with your sudden lack of enthusiasm. This is a war after all and the cattle will be slaughtered."

"Seamus, I already told the Captain I do not feel well. I am not up to the games tonight." I rolled over away from him.

"Have it you way, soldier, The pokers are in the fire pit for your use tomorrow, he wants it done before breakfast, there's about fifteen of them, virgins by the doctors account." He sneered as he left.

The Captain was sadistic. I knew I could not do this any longer. I lifted my pistol wanting to end this life. However, I could not do that either. I needed to be strong for my son. The guilt weighed heavily on my heart, the ones I sacrificed to save one.

Averting my eyes from the courtyard, I made my way to the Captain sitting on the back of a cart watching the atrocities with a flask in hand. He rarely participated, preferring to watch.

"Ahh my dear Ernst, decided to join us my boy?"

"Seamus informed me that you a special treat for me, I feel I'm up to one."

Laughing cheerfully he jumped off the cart leading me in the semi darkness to a group of young girls shackled together. Dear god in heaven, they were schoolgirls. "I knew these little ones would appeal to your tastes. Pick one, and have a go at it. We'll save the rest for morning before we leave. You've been an exceptional soldier and I wanted to reward you with the freshest"

Swallowing my bile, I thanked him, I cupped each girls chin and stared into their tear stained face one by one trying to find something anything that pulled at me to choose one over another. All drugged to some degree and allowed me to touch them without any protest. Each one had given up. The last girl, facing away from the other rocked in her torn frock. I turned her and found myself staring into wide grey eyes. Velda. The Captain released her from her shackles and he dragged her to the fire.

"Well done Ernst, the prettiest of the bunch. I will see you in the morning. And remember the doctor will check since you don't like an audience. Try to keep this one alive." He chuckled again swaggering back to the courtyard. The man thought I killed the girls for pleasure, instead I offered them a choice of eternal sleep or being passed onto another. They often chose the sleep I gave them.

Inside the tent, Velda stared at me with her wide gray eyes. I held her close crying and whispering her name until she came out of her daze. Her eyes sparked to life and she cupped my face.

"Ernst, Ernst." She whimpered, "Emerald eyes see the light, birth in darkness died in light. Haste, haste, the horses come, save me now, so I may grow."

I shook her wanting her to stop the nonsense, "Velda stop it speak right." Her eyes clouded over. And her shuddering sobs shook my body as well.

"Ernst tonight is the night. There comes an army, and you must go. Find your way back home then follow me across the sea."

"Yes, Velda, yes I will follow you." I said hugging her close but her arms wound their way into my hair and caress me in such a way I had forgotten. Her lips nibbled on my neck and long forgotten feelings rose in my throat."

"No Velda, Stop!"

"This one thing I ask Ernst. Let me give you this in love, I need you take from me what I give. I want you to love me like you did her. Let me give this to you. You promised to take what I give" I remembered the promise I made so long ago in our hometown. I did not know if I could.

Sensing my indecision she breathed in my ear and nipped my neck, "Take what I give….There is no one else who can give me light and take the sight. You promised." Her tickling kisses ignited the fire within my belly that I long suppressed. I performed before under duress of my life but not the thought of giving myself over to these feelings without disgust had me soaring I was still a young teenager and could not resist the lure of a willing female tempting me.

"Show me love Ernst. In this moment, it is you and I not visions or others. Show me love so when others take me, I can remember only you and forget the rest."

Morning found us still entwined with each other. When a loud commotion outside the tent woke me. Velda scuttled into the corner, her crazy muttering evened into quiet pants as she tugged the blanket over herself. I pulled on my trousers as the tent ripped open. A Commander stood in front of me holding a beaten Seamus by the nape of his collar; Seamus hollered and whined that I was the one. The Commander not dressed in any familiar garb that I knew. He towered over me, brandishing a silver sword.

Velda's soft voice came from behind me; she wrapped herself in the the rough woolen blanket her grey eyes sparkled with love and happiness. She spoke in the language I knew was English though I did not know the words. The impressive Commander lowered his sword, his face a mask of both horror and elation. She took his free hand, imploring him with soft words and flittering eyes. He looked at me with pity and barked out orders to a young boy hovering by the tents entrance. Brushing her hair to the side he whispered something in here ear and she giggled.

A while later, the young boy called through the tent holding two leather wrapped parcels. He spoke in German translating the Commanders words.

"I am Colonial Brandon. This girl here tells me you saved her from what occurred last night. She is coming with me where she will be safe. You are free to go. The package contains food, money and clothing. I advise you to head north Imperial forces ousted the rebels are restoring order. Hans here will help you get ready and get you a horse. God bless." The commander stripped the remaining blanket from the makeshift be we shared and wrapped Velda up tight turning her to face Hans, then he picked her up bridal style. She snuggled into his broad chest without a backward glance. The boy closed his eyes and paled when he saw her face.

"What has happened? Who is Colonel Brandon?" I asked when Colonel Brandon left.

"The leader of the rebelliion was captured and killed by Colonel Brandon. He is an American, his wife was murdered by the rebels last year, she was the neice of one of the Commanders of the Imperal Army. They gave the Colonel all he needed to retaliate and destroy the vile rebellion. The Colonel ordered all men here executed for their acts against the women and children they found in the courtyard. He came here to kill you himself, Seamus said you commissioned the crimes, but when he saw you with the girl he knew you could not have committed those acts nor commissioned them the girl adores you and appears unharmed."

"Why did he take Velda?"

The boy dropped to one knee whispering so quietly, "She said, she was his wife, come back from the heaven, to save this young boy from certain death. It was required of her to show you the meaning of love before she could reunite with the Colonel. She said the Colonel he had a daughter who needed him back home in Biloxi. I didn't believe her words till I saw her face."

"She looks like his wife?"

"I saw his wife when they laid her in the casket two years ago, I would not believe it if I had not seen if with my own eyes. Come let us get you ready before the day grows late."

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A/n Thank you again, i tried to update sooner but ernst's been cranky of late and his words just did not feel right. Anyhow, i not liking this chapter much but some things needed to be told to push the story forward. i hope u all are enjoying your summer, its way too hot here and it messes with both my mind and body. Im a northerner by birth and the southern heat gets to me lol.

A/N okay this is important so important i woke fro a dead sleep after being awake for 30 hours, must be sleep deprivation but , i do not like having historical errors in my work, Originally i had the events laid out to coincide with actual events in Europe during WW1 and the Twilight saga when i redid the outline i needed certain events to occur in 1901, worked well but those notes are now missing. i do not like doing this but this authors note is to clarify, Edward in this story is born in early March, Ernst murders his family in June ( also when Carlise gives Edward to The Masens, and Colonel Brandon arrives in July of 1901. hope this makes better sense, be safe t


	15. Chapter 15

A/N Okay, were good now, the are corrected and i working on the next, thank you for your patience, as always usual disclaimer applies, Thank you for reading

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**Chapter 14**

EPOV.

Arriving at the Reservation in the pre-dawn light I heard the greetings of the two sentries left by Sam to guard Billy's old home. I smiled, the youngest of the wolves Brady and Colin grew into their enormous paws, each bonded over the fact they had not yet imprinted on their life mates. Bella scrunched her nose as the pungent scent of the wolves swirled around the small structure. Charlie waited on the porch with a steaming cup of coffee. His moustache was no longer dark, but streaked with the same color grays as his temple. I had asked him once if he wanted to be like us, but Charlie refused, his strong arm gripping sue around the waist refused. He was happy for his daughter and us and preferred his mortal life to that of immortality.

Bella and Alice skipped ahead of me, keeping to human speed for Charlie's sake and his brawny arms hugged them close, kissing their heads. That man loved Alice as his own and Alice saw in him the human father she always wanted.

I reached the porch and shook his hand over Alice's head. His gruff hello was the same as always and we filed into the shack That Charlie called his second home since Billy passed away.

"Letter's in the Zipper bag on the counter. Sue though it may preserve the scent."

Alice, Bella, and I crowded over the baggie. Opening the bag, we inhaled and Charlie laughed. The picture in Charlie's mind made me laugh as well.

"He thinks we look like a bunch of weed loving hippies," I said to the girls.

The scent was sweet, and typical of a human. It did not ignite a fierce burn of want in any of us. It was pleasant but not overpowering. The signature gave nothing away and the paper and ink typical of a regular office. Any lingering scents had vanished in transit.

"I don't get it Edward" Alice said, " I had Jasper go through all our accounts and we never used any bank in McKinley Ville nor are any offices of banks we have used located in that town"

"There has to be some connection" Bella said sniffing the paper again.

"I searched the databases available to me and the woman is clean as a whistle. No record of any type and get this she travels all over the world, yet there is no employment record except for a nursing home in McKinley Ville back in the seventies. All her funds are in off shore accounts and she has no credit history, paying in cash for everything." Charlie handed us copies of bank statements and such.

"Here's another strange thing Edward," Charlie said leaning in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, "Renee, she spent a few years in northern California as a child, in that exact town."

"So were at a dead end, Dad." Bella said. "Phil wouldn't know anything about it since mom died he's been a wreck..."

Bella did not get to finish. The antiquated house phone rang.

"Swan here." He said his eyes growing wide. He paled and his heart sped as we flashed to his side, the woman on the other end was Amanda.

"Chief Swan, I'm sorry for calling you so early in the morning. I am in the area and I wanted to drop the box off."

"I'm not at home at the moment."

"I see, well it is a small town you get from one side to the other in less than 20 minutes, far less if you piggy back."

His eyes went wide and Alice gasped a vision of a dark skinned woman in a blue hybrid car flashed before fading to black. "Um yes it is a small town, but…"

"I sorry for being so forward but I know you received the letter and time is no longer on our side. I am sure Bella would not mind running you home. See you in a few."

The line clicked dead and Charlie turned to us the image in his mind of three dumbstruck vampires at any other time would have been hilarious. We stood with our mouths hanging open, shocked into stillness.

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A/N thank you for reading and reviews will make my day i see yous ( i cant do the y"all thingie) all reading shoot me something and let me know what you think. i credit a couple of heinkens for my quick update LOL , no promises on next, bu i assure u it wont be tonite

be safe -t

*PS no more heinekins for me, i credit them for the miss posting thanks for sticking with me -t

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